


Fight for Crazy

by Craigory_McFxcker



Category: South Park
Genre: At least she's trying, Bisexual Kyle Broflovski, Blowjobs, Bottom Kyle Broflovski, Butters Stotch - Freeform, Diagnosis, Enemies to Lovers, Eric Cartman - Freeform, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, Eric Cartman Gets Therapy, Eric Cartman Not Being an Asshole, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kenny McCormick - Freeform, Kyle Broflovski - Freeform, Kyle being a angry boi, Kyle helps, Kyman - Freeform, Liane is a good mom, M/M, Mostly by Cartman, Mystery, Romance, Sad Eric Cartman, Schizophrenia, Skeptical Kyle Broflovski, Slow Burn, Smut, Stan Marsh - Freeform, Top Eric Cartman, handjobs, mental breakdowns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27704617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craigory_McFxcker/pseuds/Craigory_McFxcker
Summary: Eric Cartman is a mysterious being. That's not gonna stop Kyle from attempting to solve him. Even when he can't solve his own problems.
Relationships: Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman, Stan Marsh/ Wendy Testaburger, Tweek Tweak/ Craig Tucker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	1. Diagnosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cartman gets his final diagnosis back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how this is gonna turn out right now. Just sort of winging it

**FATASS** : I got my results today

The text came randomly one day, while I sat in class. I stared at the white board with little interest in whatever the topic of today was, then I felt a buzz against my thigh. The teacher doesn't mind me messing around on my phone in class, since my grades have practically glowed since elementary, but I still make an effort to hide the fact that I'm not paying attention. I snuck my phone out of my pocket and under the desk to read the message. 

I hadn't seen Cartman in a few days, since he just left to another in-patient therapy session all the way in Texas. I missed him, but I knew he'd be back in a few days. It's always four days at most. He comes back and texts me immediately, letting me know how it went and what's new, but he doesn't this time. Instead, he asks if he could stop by my house after school to tell me in person. I can't say whether this is because it's bad news or not, but I oblige. The worst that could happen is that he ends up in the nuthouse permanently, which I severely doubt.

Now here he is, on my bed, calming himself to tell me the results of his latest diagnosis. He's been misdiagnosed several times and put on useless meds more times than I can count on my fingers. It seemed like every time I saw him, he was miserable because he'd just gotten a new or heavier prescription. It was absolutely awful seeing him like this, but I knew that in the end, it would all be worth it.

In the end, he'll get the help he needs, and he can finally live his life.

He shifted a little on the bed, gripping the fabric of his wrists. I saw his eyes dart from his shoes to the clothes on my floor as a way to avoid eye contact with me. I've told him about working on that, but now's not the time to correct his communication skills. Finally, he takes a breath and announces the results.

"So, Doctor Beam said that my results came back as, um... Well, it's probably not right, I shouldn't say."

"Cartman." I scolded lightly, though no real power in my tone. It came as mostly a plea. I've been as anxious about this as he has, so how bad can it be?

"Fine. She said I'm..." a brief pause, to release the breath he'd been holding. "Schizophrenic."

I'm not all that shocked honestly. He's always been a little off, and this isn't the craziest diagnosis he's gotten. If anything, this is the most helpful. I just nod and calmly ask, "Alright, what are your prescriptions?"

"That's it?". He's looking at me now. His eyebrows are pinched in confusion and I can't help but smirk a little. His confused face always reminded me that of a child's. Though, he's still got somewhat of a baby face, so that comparison isn't too far from the truth.

"What do you mean that's it? How did you want me to react?"

"I don't know. I just kinda expected more."

"More what?"

"More shock? Schizophrenia isn't exactly a good thing to have." 

I might've seen some shame in his tone. It's hard to tell exactly what emotions go on in his eyes because they're so different. Ones warm and brown and the other is icy and blue. One can pierce into your soul and rattle you to the core when he glares at you, and the other can fill you with warmth and safety when he smiles. 

"Well, Schizophrenia is also just an umbrella term for a lot of symptoms. If you truly do have Schizophrenia, then I've seen your episodes and I know how to deal with them."

"You don't know what these meds will do to me. What if I become a completely different person? What if I get off of them and become more dangerous. Like how I was when we were kids."

"I don't think that's very likely. You've mellowed out for a reason, and I don't think medication is the source behind it."

"They definitely played a big part though. Can't exactly scheme when you're high on antipsychotics."

Cartman hasn't committed any crimes or really done anything remotely bad in a few years. In middle school, he struck a teacher and his mom finally put her foot down and sent him to a mental clinic to be helped. He fought them for a while until something happened. I don't know why he changed, but he did. He doesn't like to talk about it, but something tells me that he just missed his friends and decided to play along for the sake of getting out of there as soon as possible. Not gonna lie, I missed him. Even though I showed that I liked it better when he was gone, a part of me hated every second of South park without Eric Cartman. It doesn't feel the same.

I jumped a little when Cartman flung himself on my bed, stretching his limbs and sighing. 

"So, you wanna know what they're shoving into my body this time Jew?"

"If you're talking about your prescriptions, then yes."

"Well, the most helpful one is Paliperidone. I'm severely less fucked up since I started taking them, which is probably a good sign. But...."

He trails off, searching out my bedroom window and into the sunset peaking over the snowy mountains in the distance. It's a great view, one of the biggest reasons I love this room, but I'd rather he finish his sentence than admire a sunset he's seen his whole life.

"But?" I urge. I try not to come off as too pushy, because that'll just result in him closing himself off even more. He doesn't move or speak for a second, then he scoots up a little, to the point where his head hits the wall with a small thump.

"It's the Lexapro. I hate it. I can't sleep and all I ever feel is nausea. I've asked if I could switch to a different med or if I could just get a smaller dose, but they refuse. Something about how I've lost ten pounds since starting it. Fucking doctors. I'm not even overweight. Anymore."

He sighs and fixes his gaze on the window. I realize he's not looking at the sunset, but the sky. It's a nice reddish-orange color, much like my hair color. I wonder if there's any correlation there. Well, I should focus on comforting him right now, since he's clearly distraught. 

"Yeah. How much weight do you have to lose before they'll allow you to switch?"

"Thirty pounds.". I'm glad he's not looking at me, because I probably look completely shocked. 

"That's a lot." I say quietly. Cartman agreeds with a nod of his head, and sits up to check his phone. I look at the time while he scans his notification bar for anything important. I hate how he doesn't clean that thing out, but that's a problem not willing to be fixed. I guess it's not that big of a deal, perhaps just a pet peeve of mine.

He stood so abruptly, it made me jump out of my skin for a quick half second. Nothing too noticeable though, because he definitely would've said something if he saw. 

"Well, this little meeting has been fun, but I'd better head home so mom doesn't have an aneurysm about me skipping dinner."

"What are you having?"

"Probably lasagna. We always have it when I get a diagnosis back."

"Save me some."

"Of course you'd want my food, greedy jew."

I don't reply to his usual anti semitism and let him leave. One thing that's never gonna change is his casual insults towards most minorities and groups. I've accepted this and tell myself that his remarks are just his way of expressing affection to his friends. Like how we call him fatass, even though he's not really fat anymore. Well, he's still got some chub, but now it's evened out through his body.

I decide to occupy my mind by doing school work so dad doesn't get on my ass for 'being lazy'. He doesn't come in my room anymore though because he caught me jacking off about a month ago. I still can't look him in the eye to this day. 

I try not to think too much when working on simple things like my school work. Burnout isn't fun, and I hate going through it, so I just let my mind drift into mundane fog. The time flies by fast when I apply this to school work and before I know it, it's 12 at night. I internally yell at myself for overworking again, and drop to my bed. 

Not gonna lie, I miss the old South park. The one from my childhood. The South park that would have something exciting or new going on pretty much every day. I miss going on adventures with my friends. Sure I hated it as a kid, but that was because all I wanted back then was to experience a normal day. 

Then Cartman started attending therapy, and everything changed. The last exciting thing that happened around here was before Cartman got sent away. He'd drugged the ice cream man and stole all the good flavors and popsicles, shoving them into a mini fridge in his room. The whole town searched for the missing ice cream, and when they found it and sold it to the kids, they found that it was tainted with cyanide and everyone who ate one got sick. Thanks to my diabetes, I didn't get sick, but Cartman didn't shut up about it for days. He was left unsatisfied though because I didn't get sick.

Then, since basically everyone was gone, he thought he was invincible and punched Mrs. Longwell in the stomach and called her a 'fat bitch'. I didn't see him for a few months after that. Nobody did. His mom said she sent him to a mental clinic for a few months to get help. I admire her ability to part with him for so long. 

Once he was back, he'd changed so much. He was less crazy and manic. I noticed that he was also doing better in school. He stopped sleeping through class and payed a bit more attention. Sure, his work wasn't as good as I know it could be, but it was better than it was before. 

I'm proud of him. I'm actually really proud of how much better he is. He's even more tolerable to be around. Unlike how we were when we were kids, our bickering doesn't go past casual insults. We know we're just teasing each other. And he doesn't take it too far. I dare say he's trying to become my friend. I mean, not like we aren't friends.

Our relationship is complicated. 

It's always been. Even back when it was apparent we hated each other. We still stayed in the same friend group. I'm not sure why we never kicked him out. Replaced him with someone else. I think that when I was young, I knew he was someone worth saving. Somebody that'll actually do something with his life, and I wouldn't want to miss that. I mean, it's obvious Cartman won't settle for being a basement bum. He'd want to be known as something. The kind of person kids look up to. Like Brian Boitano. 

And I wouldn't want to miss that. 

Cause maybe it'll make it all worth it. Everything he's ever done to us, whether saving our asses or torturing us, it'd all be for a reason. 

Cartman does everything for a reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know of any mistakes :)


	2. Liane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liane is acting strange and Kyle demands answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect such positive feedback from a story I scraped together in such little time. I hope this is good. I tried to make this a bit more organized than the first chapter. Also, I changed the summary of the story because, as aforementioned, I didn't have any idea how this story was to work. I kind of want it to be a mystery romance. Not sure if that's the proper term, but that's what I'm calling it.

Liane walked into the school early in the morning, while she dropped off Cartman. He made his way to the halls while she swiftly walked to the office.

Liane seemed to stutter in her walking, but nobody paid mind to that as she quickly explained Cartman's newest disorder in a mushed jumble of words. The office ladies typed and retyped as she spoke, jotting down any information they'd need to know if Cartman were in a dangerous state. The slurring of her words made her seem intoxicated, though someone with better observation would've seen past that at how bloodshot her eyes were. As if she'd gotten no sleep. Not to mention her pupils were the size of pinpoints. 

Just as quickly as she arrived, she was gone, scurrying into her car and driving off without another word. Kyle sat at the outside the office, watching the entire thing play out like a movie at a theatre. Instead of joining his friends for breakfast, he sat out there with a sketchbook on his lap, trying to make sense of Liane's odd behaviour. Perhaps she was on something? Kyle couldn't know unless he asked the one person who'd have any idea. There's no guarantee that Cartman will say anything though.

* * *

(Kyle's POV)

After shutting my sketchbook and shoving it into my, weirdly organized, bag, I marched into the lunchroom to find Cartman and ask him what's the deal with him mom. Surprisingly, he wasn't there. Instead, Stan and Kenny just sat there ogling Instagram pages from the girls at our school. I grimaced a little before heading off to the hallways in search for Cartman. 

Nothing. He's nowhere to be found. 

Then I spotted a familiar red jacket peeking out of a classroom. He wasn't exactly inside, more just standing at the doorway. I started to walk up to him, then he went inside the room and locked the door. Since each classroom has a window on the door, I peeked inside and saw that the classroom was empty, aside from Cartman. He sat on an abandoned desk, doing nothing. He was just sitting there.

Then why did he lock the door? 

I knocked, but he didn't move.

He either heard me and didn't acknowledge me, or he didn't hear me. Is he listening to music or something?

The bell rang and students went to their classes left and right, but Cartman didn't move. He's just sitting there, doing nothing. 

Now that the hallways are silent, I pressed my ear against the door. I heard muffled talking. 

So he's talking to himself? Okay, but why does he need a whole ass room to do that? 

Then I heard a bang and checked the window again. Cartman had launched a desk at the wall. Well, more like slid the desk, but it's still alarming. 

I resorted to banging on the door and wiggling the doorknob in order to get his attention. Finally, he answered.

"Yes?" He asked calmly.

"What do you mean 'yes'?! What are you doing in here?"

"Oh you know, just thinking."

"Last I checked, thinking doesn't require chucking desks at walls."

He looked caught for a second, then his faced returned to it's calmed demeanor. 

"I don't know what you're talking about. Shouldn't you be in class Kahl?"

Shit, I am. 

"I'm not leaving until you do."

"Really willing to risk your perfect attendance for me?"

"Do we have a deal Cartman. God, you haven't acted this way in years."

His jaw tensed after I said that and his lips pursed slightly. What's with that look on his face? He looks.. 

I don't know. Conflicted?

"I'll go to class." His voice was tight.

Guarded. 

"Alright. I need to talk to you later though. Meet me at lunch, okay?"

"Yeah."

He was gone in a second. I recognize this behaviour. He used to be like this a long time ago. I never got to the bottom of what was going on back then though, because I didn't care.

Nobody did. And that's how it was.

He'd come back to school one day back to normal. Nobody said anything. 

Maybe...

No, it can't.

But what if..

What if this is how an episode starts? Then I don't know how to handle it then, right?

I should see more into this later. Right now, get to class.

* * *

Lunch today was chicken nuggets and tater tots with carrots and pineapples on the side, and chocolate milk to drink. Cartman hates this meal. I don't know why I felt I had to know that, but I made an effort of checking the school website and finding the menu before showing up to lunch. 

Perhaps I just wanted to be prepared. 

I sat in my usual seat, on the far end of the cafeteria, and opened up a book to read instead of eating. As I waited for my friends to show, I remained observant of everyone around me. I don't normally keep up with drama and things in that category, but today seemed like a good day to keep my eyes and ears open. 

Predictably, Stan was the first to show. He's been packing his lunch for the past month, something about a 'couples diet' with Wendy. Anyways, today he has a spinach sandwich with kale chips and a protein shake. I almost gag upon seeing it, but he eat it with ease. Sometimes I question his commitment to these sorts of things. 

"Hey Kyle. What'cha reading?" Stan questions, taking a bite from his sandwich. I just noticed that the bread of the sandwich isn't white. It's brown. When did he start using wheat bread?

I debate telling him what I'm reading, even though he can clearly see what it is. I've decided to reread the _'Outlander'_ book series, and have been breezing by ' _Dragonfly in Amber'_. 

"Nothing. Just getting reading points for Ms. Ayarza's class. How's your day been?"

Stan leans back a bit in his seat and sighs. "I'm thinking of asking Wendy to prom. I really want to, but I can't figure out how to do it without looking like a total dweeb in front of everyone if she says no."

"That's not gonna happen dude. She really loves you, and you love her."

"She's got a lot going on dude. Her parents are really pushing her to get into the state of Columbia, and she's super stressed. I don't know if she'd be willing to take a night off."

"Ease her into it. She's smart. She knows when enough is enough."

He looks at me with a sincere smile. That's when I know I've said the right thing. I love being right. That may be cocky, but it's the truth.

"You're right Kyle. I'll talk to her tonight."

Out of the corner of my eye, a dirty orange parka, torn in more places than one, comes into view and plops down next to Stan with his wide toothy grin. I'd ask about his obvious excitement, but knowing Kenny, he's gonna tells us in a few seconds.

"Guess who just got a prom date?" He asks in a sing songy tone. Stan and I congratulate him and I allow the two to talk about shopping for tuxedos while I wait for Cartman to show. I know for a fact that Cartman wouldn't miss lunch if the building was burning down. He'd probably demand that the lunch ladies stay and make him a plate before leaving.

Just as I'm about to open my book again, Cartman shows up with Butters trailing behind him like a puppy, chattering relentlessly. Cartman seems annoyed by the blonde boy, but has most likely given up on getting him to shush up. He just sits down next to me and groans, facing away from Butters in a desperate act to get him to be quiet. Butters finally gets the hint and tones down the chat so we all can get a turn at speaking.

"Ugh, I hate this schools chicken nuggets so fucking much. They're always too hard. It's like eating rocks." Cartman groans. He really proves his point by stuffing them in his mouth as if they were gonna run off his plate.

With Cartman, they might. 

I chuckle lightly at this thought, and take the time we have left at lunch to ask Cartman about his mom. It may not be the best time to talk about this, seeing as he wouldn't open up in front of everyone, but now's as good a time as any. 

"Hey Cartman, what was with your mom this morning? She was all shaky and on edge."

Cartman stops chewing for a quick second, which I could've missed if I had blinked, then scoffed and says, crumbs flying out of his mouth.

"She's just on her bullshit drugs again."

"Aw, say it don't spray it Cartman!" Stan yells, suddenly losing his appetite. Kenny laughs and Cartman flips Stan off. I'm a little dissatisfied with the answer, but it's not like it couldn't be the truth. I mean, her behaviour is similar to Tweek's, and we all know Tweek is a crackhead. 

I'm just finding it hard to believe that Liane was all jumpy and nervous because she had been doing drugs. Well, it's no secret that she has a stash and likes to get fucked up a few times a week, but why would she do that before dropping Cartman off for school?

And why right after he gets diagnosed with something as big as Schizophrenia? 

Was it an act of coping? Then why hadn't she done it before? I've seen her after a diagnosis, and she's never like that. 

Also, she wasn't even like that when Cartman stayed at a center. It's just not adding up.

"Hey! Earth to Kyle!" Kenny screams, snapping me out of my thoughts. "You good Kyle? You've just been sitting her silently for a few minutes now. You didn't even say anything with Cartman said that the therapy system is absolute bullshit."

"Well it is!"

I shake my head and try to get back into the conversation. I've gotta get out of my thoughts sometimes.

"So," Stan starts. He's looking at me as if he's expecting me to do something.

"So?" I ask. 

"Don't play dumb Kyle. Who are you gonna ask to prom?"

I groan. I hate talking about things like this. It's not that I'm not into girls. They're hot or whatever, it's just that the girls at this school are all the same copy-and-paste bitches. Except maybe Wendy. I'm tired of dating the same cookie cutter girls over and over. I tried it in middle school, and it didn't work. Can we just leave it at that?

"I don't really want to ask anyone. I'm not very interested in girls right now." I say simply, picking up my book again and refusing to contribute any further to the conversation.

"Who said you had to ask a girl?" Kenny asks. Everyone at the table looks at him as if he sprouted a second head, including me. Did he just imply that I ask a guy?

"Dude!" Stan yells, spitting up his drink a little.

"I know!" Cartman agrees, then says "Kyle wouldn't be the guy asking! That's the man's job." 

"Fuck off Cartman!" I remark.

"How about you say it to my face instead of burying your head in that book. Who reads _'Outlander'_ in high school anyways?"

"Me, because I'm not a literary degenerate like you."

Stan and Kenny watch our back and forth bickering, then Stan speaks up, "Hey Kyle, can I talk to you?"

His tone is suddenly worried, so I comply and he leads me to the water fountains. 

"What's up dude?". I try to lighten the mood by smiling softly, but Stan is serious. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks me in the eye.

"What's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?" 

"Ever since Cartman came back from correction camp, you've been all over him."

What is he insinuating? 

"All over him?"

"Yeah. Like, you invite him over, you talk about him 24/7, you always seem to be launching yourself into his life and problems. You got something you're not telling me?"

"What the fuck? No! I'm just a little worried about him is all."

"Mm, you sure?"

"I'm not gay Stan, if that's what you're implying."

"Alright Kyle. I believe you."

He doesn't believe me.

Fucking hell. Can't a guy just care about his friend without it seeming like he wants to get on his knees and suck him off?

Why am I getting so pissed off about this? I'm straight. I know I am.

Granted, I've never felt anything with any girl I've been with, but that's because we need to click. We need to have a connection. I just haven't found the right one yet.

Fucking Christ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'll ever get the hang of ending chapters. It always seems rushed to me. Well, how'd I do? Let me know about any spelling, grammar, punctuation, and/or characterization errors. Thank you and goodbye until next time >v<


	3. Kyle the Pantomath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle needs to know everything!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Pantomath is a person who wants to know and knows everything. In other words, he wants to achieve pansophy or omniscience. I thought it was fitting idk

The cool winter air slaps my face as I run downtown with Cartman on my tail. My cheeks are red and wind burned, but I pay that no mind, as I'm trying to lose the chubby boy right behind me. Stan and Kenny are far ahead, being the more fit out of us four, but that doesn't stop Cartman from initiating a race, knowing he'd lose. To be fair, I'm barely winning against him. It's not that I'm not fast or anything, I just don't feel like speeding up to meet Kenny and Stan. I like hearing Cartman's desperate pants as he tries to grab my arm and slow me down. Everytime he does, I speed up a little, just to throw him off. 

Finally, he lets out a breathless pant and stops, hands on his knees, catching his breath. The air really seems knocked out of him, because he actually flops down on his ass, leaning back and trying to steady his breathing. It's actually pretty amusing to watch. Granted, I'm panting pretty hard too, but it's kind of masked by the fact that I'm laughing.

"What's *breath* so funny *breath* Jew!?" Cartman shouts, trying to keep up his angry face, but failing miserably. This makes me laugh harder, covering my mouth and clutching my stomach. Cartman gets madder at this, but I can't help it!

Eventually, Stan and Kenny come back to see what's going on, and find me laughing hysterically at Cartman and him responding to my amusement with degradation against jews. Kenny offers Cartman a hand to help him up, but he declines with a pouty lip and crossed arms.

I'm beginning to calm down from my fit, and Stan offers we stop at the local bakery for lunch, since we're standing in front of the entrance anyways. Cartman agrees with a grunt and a humble walk inside, Kenny following after with the promise of free food. After dramatically wiping a tear from my eye, more for theatrics than I actually needed to, I walked inside with Stan close behind me. 

The second I step through the door, the intense smell of freshly baked muffins, cookies, cakes and various other delicious pastries hits my nose like a train, and I'm both overwhelmed and instantly calmed. It's a weird feeling. 

A sweet old lady runs this place, and has for a few years now. She smells of lavender and baby power, with a hint of muffins. Her hair is curly and, horribly dyed, brown with gray hair growing at the roots. Her eyes are squinted and her mouth always seems to be in a smile as she greets customers. I also heard from Clyde that she pays well and gives leftovers to the homeless men in the alleys. The two kids in front of us, probably about 9 to 11 years old, punch and argue much like how me and Cartman do. The sweet old lady shows them their food, pinches their cheeks, and offers them hard butterscotch candy. She has a tendency to pinch the cheeks of random kids whenever she feels happy to see them. I secretly pray she doesn't do this to me while waiting in line, and something better than I could've ever imagined happened.

When our turn to order came up, Cartman dug a few dollars out of his pocket and looked at the old lady with a stoic face as he ordered,

"Hey, can I get three chocolate cannoli's and a fruit and cream cheese danish for the diabetic jew?"

The old lady, five seconds from death's door, looked Cartman dead in the eye and said, "You're a bit chubby for your age." following that with a firm pinch to his cheek. Cartman looks stunned and doesn't even tell her to fuck off. He just stands there, waiting for her to release the death grip she's got on him. I almost burst into laughter again, but I acknowledge where we are, and don't want to disturb the quiet nature of this little bakery. So, I cover my mouth and terribly hold back my laughter. 

Once we finally get our food and sit down at the table, I release my laughter along with Kenny and Stan, who were also holding back. Cartman's blush is evident on his face, but he keeps up a scowl and scarfs down his cannoli. Kenny's the first to calm down, deciding that eating is a lot better than laughing at Cartman. Stan follows.

I'm still a bit giggly as I reach for a strawberry off the danish. 

Wait, Cartman ordered this specifically for me. He mentioned my diabetes too.

So he was thinking about me. I hadn't even thought about the fact that I'm a diabetic yet.

That was weirdly considerate of him. I didn't even notice it until now because I was too distracted laughing my ass off. 

I want to mention this, and maybe thank him, but I don't. I've known Cartman long enough to realize that he hates when people thank him for being a good person. So, I decide to remark in a subtle and clever way that lets him know I noticed.

"Why'd you get me this? I don't even like cream cheese."

"Ay fuck you Jew. I was doing your diabetic ass favor, and all you do is bitch. Next time I'll get you the sweetest thing on the menu, jackass."

Stan perks his head up, and grabs for a cannoli, saying, "If you send my best friend into a diabetic coma, I'm putting your fat ass six feet under."

"Is it nice having a knight in shining armor looking out for you Kahl?"

I snickered, but Stan scoffed. We both know I don't need anyone looking out for me. Cartman knows this too, but that doesn't stop him from teasing us about it. I think I heard a hint of jealousy in his tone, but I shook that off as a figment of my imagination.

* * *

We spent most of the rest of our afternoon hanging out around town, chatting, wrestling, racing and insulting each other. I didn't realize how much I needed a break like this. After everything that's happened with Cartman, and all the studying I've had to do for the SAT's and just life that's been going on, I'm grateful to be able to just goof around and have fun with my friends like this. 

Then, something happened. Not to any of us, to Cartman. 

We were all helping measure my hair to see how long it's gotten, then Cartman just kinda stepped back and watched us three laugh and struggle for a few seconds. Then his expression dropped slightly and he just sat away from us, studying the ground. I was the first to notice this, and was about to point it out, but then Cartman pretended to check his phone and cleared his throat. His voice still laced with his usual confidence and exuberance, but his eyes were a bit duller than normal. 

"Well, this has been fun and all, but I'd better get home now. Mom's making meatloaf tonight."

I don't want him to walk home alone, especially after the look on his face a few seconds ago, so I volunteer, "Can I go with you back home? I could even stay for dinner."

Cartman stares in, what looks like, surprise for a quick second, then smiles and replies "No. I got things to do today that don't involve Jew."

I think he was using word play by replacing 'you' with 'jew', but nobody laughs. "What things?" I ask. 

"I can't reveal all my secrets. Now I'd better go." 

With that, Cartman turns on his heel and starts to head towards our street. Kenny and Stan look at each other briefly, seeming to hold a conversation with their eyes, then they both shrug and start to talk again about something I couldn't pay attention to. I'm just wondering about that sudden exit. 

As if he wanted to be alone. 

And that look he made. 

Perhaps he was having a hallucination and he didn't want to bug us about it. But isn't he taking medication for that? They're supposed to be working pretty well, since he was prescribed them at the beginning of school and he hasn't switched or anything. If it was bad enough that he had to leave, then maybe they aren't working as good as he says they are. 

He mentioned that he had things to do. That could've just been an excuse to get me to leave him alone. He hasn't been lying a lot lately though, not to me anyway, so why start now? 

I must've been looking off for a while, because eventually Stan and Kenny shook me out of my thoughts by literally shaking me by the shoulders.

"You didn't have to be so violent." I murmured. 

Kenny let go of me and replied,"Well, you weren't responding to anything dude. You were just looking out at nothing."

Shit, they saw that? Well, of course they did, but I didn't think I was being so creepy about it.

"Sorry, I'm just thinking."

Stan is at my side soon after the words leave me. I take in his worried expression, seeing Kenny with the same one. I feel bad for worrying them now.

"What's been up lately dude? You've been zoning out a lot." 

God, I really got him all concerned about me.

"It's nothing. My mind's just been pretty occupied. Don't worry about it guys."

I can tell they aren't satisfied by my unrevealing answer, but they don't pry any further and we decide to go home.

The second I step through the door, I hear yelling. Ike is upstairs arguing with our parents again. 

Over the past few months, Ike and I have been talking and realized together that our parents aren't very great. I try to stay on their good side, just to avoid talking about it, but Ike goes in a completely different direction. He always voices his opinion, usually getting shut down pretty quickly, but today seems different. Mom and dad are back and forth lecturing Ike about how he's ungrateful and how he hasn't experienced shit and how they know better. It's fucking stupid, and I want to say something to help my poor brother, but chances are I'm gonna make it worse. So, instead I go to my room and hit the books, just so I don't give my parents another thing to bitch about.

I sat at my desk for hours, but I wasn't doing anything. I tried to do the work in front of me, but I just couldn't focus. My thoughts kept going back to this morning, and later with Cartman's response about it and then even later when he left the group suddenly. I want to make sense of it, even though I know almost nothing about the situation. I attempted piecing everything together with what I do know, but since that information is limited and barely anything, I came up empty handed. 

Since Cartman supposedly has things to be doing right now, I decided to head over to his house and try talking to his mom. I have hope that maybe she'll explain things for me and I can understand Cartman and his situation better. It's only reasonable that I'd want to after all.

I snuck past my parents in their bedroom and made my way to Cartman's house. It was getting dark already, but since it's always winter here, the darkness comes early and I have about 5 hours to get this settled. When I got to the front of the house, Liane's car was gone. I figured she wasn't home then, but the lights inside were on. If Cartman isn't there, then that must mean Liane is. 

Unless, of course, he was lying. 

I peeked inside through the window and into a small space through the curtains and saw Liane sitting on the couch, blanket around her shoulders watching some movie. I contemplate disturbing her for a minute, then deciding that this is too important. Besides, it's better to talk to her when she's in a peaceful atmosphere than if she were on edge like earlier. 

I knocked on the door two times. Liane came around the second time. She must've been distracted by the Tv. 

"Oh Kyle, Eric isn't home right now." she said, a small smile forming on her face.

Behind that I saw nervousness. 

"I'm not here for Cartman. I want to talk to you. About his latest diagnosis."

She seemed hesitant, looking behind her and checking the time. She stared at the ground for a quick second, then allowed me inside.

"Would you like something to drink? I can make some tea." Liane offered me. Since I didn't want to be rude, I agreed, waiting for her as she brewed up the kettle in the kitchen. I took a seat on their couch, not sitting back just yet. 

Liane came back and sat down on the other end of the couch.

"So, what would you like to know?" 

I took into account how tired she sounded just then. As if she hasn't been sleeping well. This idea is supported by the fact that she has dark circled under her eyes and no makeup on, which she usually does.

"Well, I'd like to know exactly what kind, and what the start of an episode looks like for him." I stated firmly. I needed to come off as willing and open so she won't be afraid to tell me things I might not want to hear. I know just as well as the next person that Cartman is bound to have some nasty symptoms.

"Well, according to Dr. Beam, they don't categorize Schizophrenia anymore, since the symptoms usually overlapped, but she said that Cartman has a lot of the symptoms of that of a disorganized and paranoid schizophrenic. If you'd like, you can do your own research on that."

"I'll keep that in mind. Well, how does an episode usually start?"

Liane started to fidget with her blanket, her eyes darting to the floor and the tv screen. It's probably a sore subject, but I don't regret asking. This is what I came here for anyway. Her voice starts to tremble and she brings a hand to her cheek, rubbing it tenderly. As if she was...

remembering something. Important.

"He can get a little violent."

No way.

He didn't

"But he's a good boy. Eric's a good boy. He would never hurt anyone."

"Ms. Cartman, did Cartman hurt you?"

She stares at me intensely with wide eyes. Suddenly, there's a high pitched sound coming from the kitchen. Liane leaves to fix up the tea and I'm left a second to think before she comes back.

I don't know what to think.

Cartman hurt his mom? It's no secret that Cartman can get violent sometimes, but I never thought he'd...

I need more context. Did she provoke him somehow? What was his mood beforehand? Was he on or off his meds?

Liane came back with two cups, steam fading out of them and strings hanging off the edge. 

She sat back down, seeming to have returned to her calm state, but I dunno. Something feels off.

Liane sighed and placed her drink down on the coffee table.

"Listen Kyle. I know you care about Eric dearly, and you wouldn't listen if I told you to stay away from him, but please be careful. He can be very difficult at times, and his brain is very much against him, so he's just confused. His confusion can lead to damaging results. Just be wary of him please. I'd hate to see you or Eric get hurt."

What does that mean?

"Damaging results? Like what?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by an alarm on her phone going off. She starts to get panicked like this morning and ushers me out of the house.

"Thank you for stopping by, but it's time for you to head home." She says as she quickly walks me to the front door. By the time I could've responded, she shut the door and turned off all the lights. 

* * *

The sleep I got that night wasn't very good, and I came to school with less energy than usual. I figured I should eat a protein bar and drink some coffee to perk up a bit, and as I was walking to the snack bar, I overheard Clyde talking to Craig. At first, I thought nothing of it and continued forward, then I heard Cartman's name and couldn't help but listen in. 

"Yeah, I saw him yesterday behind the City Wok. You'll never guess what he was doing."

"I don't care." Craig remarked in his nasally monotone voice. 

"Well you will when you hear."

I'd wish they'd stop stalling and just say it so I can move on with my day. The curiosity is killing me.

"Just tell us already."

"Alright, I saw him....dealing drugs."

....

"No way."

"Yes way. He was dealing to a freshman."

"What was it?"

"Not sure, cause it was packaged. He did make a fat roll of cash though, so it makes sense why he'd do it."

"Yeah. Cartman does a lot of dumb shit for money."

"He does dumb shit for free."

I almost want to jump in and defend Cartman, but I don't think he'd want me telling everyone about his disorder because they're talking shit. I should be focusing on what they said before that. About his dealing drugs.

To a freshman of all people.

Why would he do that? And where'd he get them? This doesn't make any sense. 

I'm used to Cartman doing weird and unexplainable things, but he hasn't done anything like this since....

Wait. He hasn't done anything like this since he was unmedicated. If he's really getting violent with his mom and selling drugs, does that mean...

Is he off his meds?

* * *

I tried texting Cartman, asking to talk, but he never answered. He also wasn't in school today. Nobody knew where he was. I tried calling his mom and everything, but nobody picked up. I spent most of my morning worrying my ass off. I was basically bouncing in my seat by the time last period was coming to a close. Stan kept giving me concerned glances, but I didn't respond to them. I was too busy chewing my nail and watching the clock move as slow as fucking possible.

Why is it time moves slower when you're in a hurry? Seconds matter in situations like this.

Finally, the bell rang and I leaped from my seat. Having packed up 5 minutes early, I was able to bolt out the door and get to my locker in record time. I checked my phone again to see if he responded to my texts.

KB: WE NEED TO TALK DUDE. NOW  
KB: WHERE ARE YOU?  
KB: PLEASE REPLY SO I KNOW YOU'RE OKAY

He hasn't even read them yet. Is he intentionally ignoring me? Where could he be?

I tried calling his mom one last time as I left the school. Nothing. 

Right as I was about to run to his house, something stopped me in my tracks and held onto my arm. I looked back. It was Stan. He looked scared.

"Dude, what's up with you? Where are you going?"

"I just- I need to go! Let me go!"

"I'll drive you. Just tell me what's up dude?"

I debated running, but it'll be much faster if I take a car, so I nodded and we hopped in Stan's car. I really don't have time to think though. I gotta get to his house and make sure he's okay. Stan is eager to know though, and won't go until I tell him what's going on, making this whole process all the more difficult."

"Stan, we need to get to Cartman's house."

"Why? Is it because he skipped school? He could just be at an appointment or something. It's not that big of a-"

"No, that's not it! He did something and I need answers. I think somethings wrong."

"Kyle, stop putting yourself in situations where you don't belong. I get that you care for him or whatever, but this is too much dude. You're getting worried over small things like him missing school."

"I didn't ask to be lectured. I wanted a ride. Can you please let me do this?"

Stan sighed exasperated, but complied, twisting the keys in the ignition and pulling out of the schools parking lot. As we drove, I prayed that Cartman would be home. I'd rather he got me all worried for nothing than he actually be in trouble. 

"Kyle, I'll support you in anything you do. I just want you to know that. But this is kind of extreme. You worry about him way too much. It's not healthy."

As much as I hate to admit my faults, I know he's saying this because he cares, and I may be in the wrong. Stan wouldn't do something with the intention of hurting me. 

"I know. I just really care about him. He's really trying to be better, and I don't want him to fuck up. Especially since he's gone this far. I've seen him at his worst. I never want to see it again."

"And that's completely reasonable. I won't stand in your way. That never works out in the long run. I learned from Cartman's mistakes, but I will give you constructive criticism along the way. You tend to be very passionate about things and like to go out and do something about it. I admire that, but sometimes you take it too far and end up in dangerous or just plain bad situations. When Cartman is involved, who knows what can happen. I'm just looking out for you dude."

"Thanks Stan, but you and I both know I don't need someone looking out for me."

"That's bullshit. Everyone needs someone looking out for them."

"Which is why I need to look out for Cartman."

Stan pulled into his driveway, since all our houses are so close, and turned to me. 

"Cartman has a lot of people looking out for him. Therapists, his mom, all of us. You don't have to do that on your own. If he's struggling, you don't have to fix everything yourself."

"I think he's off his meds." The words tumbled out of me before I could have a thought stopping them. Stan became shocked and worried.

"What? Why didn't you say anything? Why did you try solving this all by yourself?"

"I'm not sure yet, but he's been having a lot of weird occurances. Like when he just left randomly the other day, and that morning he was talking to himself in a classroom and flung a desk at a wall. His meds are supposed to cover his hallucinations, but they seem to be coming up recently. Maybe this is just the start of a episode, but I dunno. That may be worse. Perhaps this is the start of and episode and it started _because_ he's off his meds. Also, I tried asking his mom some questions yesterday and she implied that Cartman had hurt her."

"He what?!"

"Maybe it was unintentional. She didn't answer any further questions and just told me to be careful around him because he can be violent."

"Why didn't you tell any of us this?"

"I just learned all this yesterday. I can't make sense of it."

Stan leaned back in his seat, running his hand through his hair. I could tell he's just as stumped as I am about this, and I can only hope he sees why I was so worried and doesn't lecture on this subject anymore. 

Not likely, but a boy can dream.

"What are you gonna do?" Stan wonders to me. I hadn't thought of an answer actually. I was just moving for the sake of getting here. I knew I was gonna ask if he was okay, but I hadn't thought much further on that.

Or what I was gonna do if he wasn't okay.

"I'm not sure. I just needed to know if he was okay today. I heard from Clyde and Craig that he was dealing to a freshman yesterday. I don't want to believe he'd do that, but it makes more sense if he was off his meds. And if he is, there has to be a reason why he'd..."

When he talked about his prescriptions the other day, he mentioned that he hated a specific one. Which one was it?

_"It's the Prozac. I fucking hate it."_

"The Prozac."

Stan shot me a puzzling look, as if I had just spouted some foreign alien language. 

"The what?"

"His new prescription. He said he hated it because it made him feel..."

It wasn't really my place to say anything on this matter. If Cartman wanted them to know, he would've told them himself.

"Not good. That might've been motivation to stop taking them all together. But I don't know how he'd get his mom to stop refilling it enough so she didn't notice."

"Cartman's one mysterious guy."

I had to agree with him on that.

"Well, as much as I love sitting in your car, I gotta go check on Liane and make sure Cartman's at home, safe."

"Want me to go with you?"

"Nah. I'm sure everything's fine."

"Are you?"

After this calming talk, knowing I'm not the only one that's confused probably helped me calm down a little. Good for that too, because it'd be hard to explain to Liane and Cartman why I was so scared if I'd shown up without Stan's help.

"Yeah. I am now. Thanks dude."

"Anytime."

Stan unlocked the doors so I could step out and back into the world. The slushy snow beneath me crunches under my boots as I step towards the sidewalk and on the path to Cartman's house. Stan is heading in the same direction, but turns and enters his house before I'm even on Cartman's lawn. Speaking of which, his house is eerily silent and dark. There's no lights on, but Liane's car is out front, so at least she's home. 

I stepped up to the door, scanning the windows for any movement. Nothing.

I knocked. Nobody answered. Then I knocked again. And Again.

"Hello? Ms. Cartman?" I called out, knocking once again. It didn't seem like anyone was gonna answer, but soon Liane crept behind the door, cracking it open just enough for me to see her.

"Oh, hi Kyle. What are you doing here?"

"Cartman wasn't in school and I just wanted to make sure he's okay."

At the mention of Cartman, Liane turned and I thought for a split second she was gonna shut the door. Then he head peeked out again. I just noticed how pale and sickly her face it. Also how dark it is inside her house. A big contrast to the light from the outside.

"Eric's fine."

"Where is he?"

I observed her face carefully. She bit her lip and her pupils shrunk a bit before she decided to answer. She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it just as quickly.

"Where is he, Ms. Cartman?" I repeated firmly. She looked back, avoiding the question. "Please." I added. That seemed to spark something in her, because she quickly spoke.

"I think he said he's back behind main street where City Wok and Jimbo's guns is."

"The shady part of town? We never go there except to play at the arcade in the mall."

"He told me to stay inside. Please don't find him Kyle. He's not himself right now."

"What do you mean? Is he having an episode?"

A loud noise erupted from the building and Liane spouted a jumble of words I couldn't really decipher before shutting the door. 

Despite what she told me, I rush over to main street in search of Cartman. If he's really having an episode right now, then why would I stay away? Sure, he can be dangerous when he's unstable, but that's no reason to cower in fear until he calms down. 

I'm not like Liane. Cartman doesn't scare me.

* * *

The normally bustling and busy streets of South park are eerily quiet this afternoon. It may just be me, but it feels like a ghost town at the moment. Nobody's around, that I know of, and I can hear the wind blowing through my hair at this point. A few street cats cry in the alleys as I grow closer to it. I suddenly feel very anxious having to walk through this narrow path, but I just tell myself that this is all for Cartman, and I power through.

Back here isn't much better. The air smells of smoke and semen, and the run down 'South park mall' is filled with drunk adults that just came out of The Peppermint Hippo. It doesn't appear that they've noticed me, but they're probably too hung over to care anyway. Quickly, I pass the next four buildings and finally get to City Wok.

Weird, it doesn't look like anyone is here. Of course, the restaurant is open, as always, but nobody is here. Not even the locals who stop by every one in a while. 

No trace of Cartman either.

Well, it'd be idiotic to just give one look and say he isn't here. So, I cautiously walk to the back of the building and search for anyone. I see an overflowing dumpster, a few boxes and...

a black briefcase.

The leather material looks way too expensive for anyone in this redneck town to afford even if they put their houses up for rent, so there's no way a small town restaurant owner like Tuong Lu Kim would ever...

Wait. I hear footsteps.

Just before I'm able to snap my head around and see what the source was, I'm met face to face with the concrete. 

Intense pain washes over me as I register what just happened. Then, the heel of a shoe is placed on the back of my neck, along with the cold metal of a gun's barrel against the back of my head. My first instinct is to attack back, but seeing as he has a gun pointed to my head, I don't think I'd have a chance of getting away unharmed. 

Suddenly, a loud boom rang in my ears, and the man behind me hits the ground next to me. His eyes are squinted in pain and he's clutching his leg in agony. The blood pools under him and I realize what happened.

I'm pulled to my feet by the back of my collar and am met with familiar brown and blue eyes. Except they aren't how I'm used to seeing them. Instead of being smug and charming, they're full of fear and don't match his tone at all.

"What are you doing here!" Cartman growls. He sounds so pissed.

"Looking for you asshole! What the hell is going on?"

Cartman doesn't answer me. He's looking around, like someone is watching us. I follow his lead, checking our surroundings to see if, we are indeed, being watched. I'm about to speak my confusion, then I'm dragged into a dark area by the brunette. He holds me by my shoulders for a second. 

His pupils are so blown. And he's staring at me so intensely. More intense than he ever has when we'd argue. 

I just realised how fast my heart is beating. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins and I bet Cartman can feel it with how hard he's holding me still. Does he think I'm gonna run off?

"Stay!" He barks out. Then he pulls out a handgun from his pocket and leaves me. 

This bastard. He thinks I'm just gonna leave him alone when it's obvious he's scared? Not to mention there's probably danger lurking. I can't just sit here and do nothing while his life could be on the line.

After calculating my next move carefully, I step back into the light and try to find which way Cartman went. I'm not out there for more than a second when I'm squared in the jaw. I recovered quickly, thanks to years of fighting, but I'm not quick enough to move out of this guys way, and he get's me in a headlock. A bigger, much warmer gun is pointed at my head and I twist to get a good look at the guy holding me. 

He has crazy eyes, where you can see the white surrounding them. He has bags under his eyes and a yellow smile. 

Since I didn't want to see his face any longer, I snapped my head forward. I had a thought where I spit on him to release me, but that kind of retaliation only works on fourth grade playgrounds.

His gun presses deeper into my temples as he cocks it, a quiet chuckle erupts from him. I pray to Moses, God and anyone else out there that I be saved. 

A loud noise comes from in front of us. A few cans are knocked over, and a box is on it's side, then there's Cartman. 

He looks more terrified than I've ever seen any human look in my entire life. His mouth is hanging open, and his eyes are wide with carnal terror. 

His gun drops to the ground with a thud, with Cartman following. He joins his hands together and bows his head.

"Please....don't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooo cliffhanger. Not sure when the next chapter will be out. Hopefully soon :P   
> I only had four chapters planned so far, so lets see how this goes


	4. Unexplained madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cartman is more than meets the eye.

"Please...don't."

"You know what I want! If you don't give it to me in 10 seconds, I'm gonna blow this kids fucking head off!"

I can barely comprehend what's happening. It's all moving too fast. I'm not even sure this is all real, but the feel off metal against my head and hot breath on my neck is proof that this is undoubtedly real.

The man's voice is crazed and on edge. He sounds like an addict without a drug. His voice is raspy and gruff, and booms in my ear like thunder on a rainy night. I'd like to listen to the numbers escaping his lips, but I can't. I can't pay attention to him because Cartman is before me, so out of his element. 

He's on his knees, _begging._ He's actually pleading like a dog for me to be let go. I can hear little murmurs erupt from him here and there. Things like "No...", "Please.." and "Kyle..". In every word, there's a force behind it that's almost incomprehensible. I wish he was looking at me so I could decipher better, but he sounds genuinely scared for me. He sounds like he's desperate for me to not get hurt. 

From the looks of it, he is desperate.

He's curled up, on his knees and shaking as quiet pleas escape him every once in awhile. It's hard to tell if he's crying, but as the clock ticks down, he might be. 

I've known this guy for 17 years, and not once in any of those years have I seen him so small and helpless. I've never witnessed a scenario where Cartman can't do anything at all.

He's stuck, with the fate of my life in this man's hands. 

The worst part is, I'm not even worried about dying right now. Of course, I'm scared shitless, as anyone would be, but it's somewhat muffled. I can't focus on being scared being of the intense sinking feeling in my chest watching Cartman begging so powerlessly. It's also sort of relieving in a way, seeing him like this. Yeah, it feels shitty, but it's good to know that, even though we argue all the time and claim to despise each other, Cartman does care. This is living proof. He's willing to be vulnerable like this to spare my life, something he might not have done 7 or so years ago.

He cares about me. 

It hurts to see him like this. I'm not even sure how long it's been or what number the man is on. It doesn't matter anyway.

Because, as soon as I'm able, I headbutt him and snatch his gun before he can reach 10. Cartman lifted his head up, and I got a clear view of how scared he really was. There's a single tear trail on his face, drying quickly but noticeable nonetheless. I help him up by the shoulder and we quickly make a break for it. I was hoping Cartman doesn't look back to shoot, but he makes an attempt. No luck, thankfully. 

Even though this guy almost killed me, I don't think I'd be able to do the same without having a guilty conscience after.

We slipped back into darkness, but didn't stay there for long. I stopped to catch my breath, but Cartman urged I continue forward. He was probably just being precautious. I did almost die after all. 

Finally, deep into the forest, he allowed us both to stop and catch our breaths. As we stand in the middle of nowhere, steadying our breathing, I'm given a moment to process what just happened. 

I was almost shot. By a psycho man who...

Wanted something?

Yeah, he wanted something from Cartman. He didn't specify what it was though. And Cartman didn't even attempt to reason with him or anything. He went straight to the begging.

That was odd of him. 

The Cartman I know, or the Cartman I think I know, would've threatened to murder this man if he did something he didn't want. Why is he letting this guy push him around?

Before I can bring any of these questions, or any others I have, to light, Cartman pulls me into a tight hug. It provides me with overwhelming warmth, contrast to the winter air around us, but I can't sink into it. There's way too much passion and emotion in this hold, it doesn't feel like Cartman's. 

And Cartman never hugs me. 

I don't know how to return feelings like this to someone like him. 

Despite this, I try and wrap my arms around him in return. This is proven to be difficult due to his figure. I settle for letting my hands rest on his lower back. Then he releases a sigh. The warm air produces a cloud-like fog in the air for a second.

"You okay?" He asked. His voice was small and broken, probably recovering from crying earlier. Even though I find it hard to believe, the evidence is right in front of me. Cartman cares about me. He's upset because I almost died. 

It's so weird to have Cartman actually care about me. Well, he and I have been close these past few months, but I didn't think I changed him _that_ much. He's still racist, anti semitic and bigoted, but maybe I've become an exception to him. 

This isn't even the first time he's cried because I was dead or about to die. Back when the Manbearpig attacked me, I still could hear after I was pronounced dead. It was distant and muffled a little, but I heard Cartman cry out in denial, then he started to pump my chest, trying to bring me back to life. I wanted him to know I could still hear him, but I think it's better he didn't, because I don't think he would've said what he did if he knew I could hear him.

"God dammit Kyle, you've never walked away from anything in your life. Now fight!"

Since my brain was shutting down at the time, I couldn't process what those words mean. Until I felt heavy pressure bring me back to life, and everything came rushing back to me. The sounds, the sights, the smells, everything. 

After that, Cartman cradled my head and soothingly told me to just breathe. 

The next thing I remember is Cartman next to my hospital bed, still talking about that stupid bet. I couldn't think clearly, and came to the conclusion that he only wanted me around so I could suck his balls. 

Looking back on it, he was being sickeningly sweet when I woke up. He didn't have to do that, nor did he have to say the things he did beforehand. Things about my heart being strong and how I've never walked away from anything in my life. It almost sounds like he was complimenting me. Or trying to anyway. 

"Kyle?" 

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when Cartman speaks up again. His voice is much stronger this time around. I guess I was quiet for too long.

"Hm, oh yeah. I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"Y-yeah."

Cartman pulled off of me and turned so I couldn't really see his face. I wish he'd try getting better at communicating when things get emotional, but I think he mentioned that he's working on that in therapy. It's obvious he doesn't want to talk about what just happened, but considering I almost lost my life, I think I deserve an explanation of some kind. 

"What was that, back there? With the guy and whatever it was he wanted from you?"

Cartman takes a second to respond. I noticed he tends to do this a lot lately, zoning off before he speaks and thinking about his next words carefully. He's more aware of how his words affect people now, and seems almost anxious about it. Like, one wrong word and I'll be booking it in the other direction. He also doesn't talk as much as he used to. It's relieving when he's not pissing me off, but it's kind of heart wrenching when we're alone. 

It really shows how much he's changed.

"He's just some psycho I came across walking home from school one day. Nothing to worry about."

He's bullshitting, and he can tell I know he's bullshitting. 

"Cartman, don't lie. What's really going on?"

He bites his lip tentatively, and looks at the ground.

"I- I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"I just can't."

"I won't be mad."

"Still. I can't. It might be dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"Shit" he says under his breath. I see him looking around again, like he did earlier in the alleys. Either someone is stalking us, or Cartman is having a hallucination. Seeing as he might be in the middle of an episode, I don't doubt the former. His gaze stops on the trees behind me, but he's not really looking at them. I'd say he is, in fact, having a hallucination, but he doesn't look like it. Either he's hiding his reaction, as to not alarm me, or he's thinking really hard. Still, I don't want to risk anything.

"Cartman, are you having a hallucination right now?"

"Hm?"

"Are you having a hallucination?"

"Uh, no. Well....No, I'm not. You saw what I did, so it has to be real."

"No, right now. You look..distant."

"I'm just thinking....Here, take this."

He dropped the gun he had into my hands. It's cold and a little heavy. I feel unnerved just seeing it, let alone holding it.

"I don't want it."

"Well, you need it. Since you couldn't stay out of my business, that psycho knows what you look like now. He can find you, and I want you to be prepared if he does."

I'm still staring at the gun. Why am I even considering this? It's obvious Cartman isn't in the best place right now, so who knows what could really be going on. Maybe he just pissed off some homeless dudes. 

But the suitcase. That couldn't have been owned by anyone around here. 

And I can't just give him the gun back. If he's really in the state I think he is, it wouldn't be smart to let him walk around with a gun.

My mom is gonna kick my ass to next week if she sees this in my room. I suppose I can hide it.

"Alright, I'll take it." 

Cartman nods and smiles as I stuff the gun in my pocket. It's not that noticeable under the thick layers of my coat, but I can definitely feel it in there. 

"I'd better go. Get home Kyle, and stay safe." Cartman bids me as he makes his leave. I'm not entirely sure where to go from here. I absolutely can't go home, not with a loaded gun in my pocket. 

I wonder if Stan is home. He did say to stop keeping these things to myself. He's right. It's not healthy to let things build up or to try and solve big problems on my own.

* * *

The walk to Stan's house would have been quiet and soothing if weren't for the fact that every step I took resulted in a faint reminder of the gun in my pocket. The metal bounced against me everytime I stepped forward, and it got a little annoying, but it's not like I could do much about it. 

When I got to his doorstep, I had a feeling of, what I can only describe as, doubt lingering in my stomach. 

Like I shouldn't be telling him this. Maybe this is too much for him. 

But, he deserves to know. I'd be pretty pissed if this happened to him and he didn't tell me, so what gives me the right to do the same? 

So, I mustered up the courage and knocked. At first, I didn't hear anything, and thought for a second that maybe he went out without telling me, but then his sister answered.

"What do you wa- Oh, it's you. Stan! Your boyfriend is here!"

Why is that everyone's assumption about us? When girls wanna be besties it's perfectly normal, but when guys do it, it's gay. I know I can't do anything to break these gender stereotypes, but for a town that's supposed to be accepting, it's still pretty controversial. 

If PC principal was still around, he'd definitely make sure nobody assumed I was gay because of my relationship with Stan. Or he'd do the opposite and support me for being something I'm not. 

Wow, it must've sucked to be Tweek and Craig back then. Sure, they're happy now, but that's because they don't have anyone pushing them anymore, and they're together because they truly want to be. Perhaps they wouldn't have realized that without those years of forced affection.

Stan came downstairs with a matching glare to mine on his face. He's also really annoyed with everyone referring to us as "boyfriends, gays, queermos, butt buddies" and so on so forth. Regardless, he invites me inside and up to his room. I pray to god that he and his sister don't hear or notice the loaded gun in my pocket and call the police on me. 

In Stan's room, the anxiety building up in me has reached levels I didn't know existed. This isn't your typical 'I forgot to study for this test' anxiety. This is the fear I should've felt when I had a gun pressed to my head and a man counting down behind me. 

I think it's all just hitting me now what happened. Good thing I didn't get all panicky around Cartman. Something tells me that staying calm and showing him I'm not mad is the best way to do about anything like this. It's obvious he's scared and didn't mean for any of this.

I know that doesn't excuse the fact that it happened, and probably traumatized me, but I'm willing to forgive him. Besides, he's probably more messed up than I'll ever be.

"So, what's up dude? Is Cartman okay?"

Taking a deep breath, I sat next to Stan on his bed and looked at the ceiling as I spoke. "You missed a lot."

"What happened? Did he..do something?"

"Huh? Oh, no. Uh, he..." I shouldn't mention how he begged. "He was behind the City wok. In the alleys."

"That's like, the most dangerous part of town!"

"I know. I almost died."

"What?!" Stan sat up and turned to face me, but I kept my eyes locked on the ceiling above us. It should be easier to talk about this if I'm not looking at him.

"There was this guy. He looked completely mad. He probably was, because he got me in a headlock and pressed a gun to my head, threatening to shoot me. Cartman was there and he helped me escape."

Stan released a breath I didn't know he'd been holding. "Well, this is why I told you to stay out of his business."

"Stan..."

"I'm serious Kyle. This sounds like a lot, even for you. I know you have some sort of martyr complex, but this is too far dude. How about you get some help from people who can actually do something, like your parents, and we'll sort something. It's obvious Cartman's off his meds and got himself into some shit. Instead of encouraging it, we need to get him back into a good place and sort out whatever conflict he started."

"You shouldn't assume he's off his meds because he's being a little manic."

"Isn't that literally what you did earlier today? And why shouldn't I? I think it's a pretty fair assumption."

"Still. I shouldn't have done that, and my mistakes don't make it acceptable. Maybe he's just having an episode. No medication can't fully stop things like this. We'll just have to wait it out and let him know we're here for him. If that means getting into trouble like we used to, then I'm fine with it. Besides, this isn't the first time I almost died."

"If he is having an episode, don't you think telling someone would be a better option? We can't do anything about this, but someone else can. Maybe we should call his therapist or something."

That's...not a bad idea. They'd know better than anyone how to help us and what to do.

"But how would we even get their number?"

"Liane know it, right?"

I don't think I like where this is going.

"Yeah...."

"Well, we can ask her for it. Say it's just in case we need it, which technically is the truth."

"I guess that could work."

"Right. Let's go then."

Stan hopped off the bed and grabbed his coat. He stood at the door, holding the doorknob, and waiting for me to follow. 

First, I gotta get this off my chest. 

"Wait."

I pulled out the gun. His face immediately fell. 

"Cartman gave me this. He said if I ever get into trouble again, to use it. I don't plan to, but I knew that letting him keep it wouldn't be smart. Do you think I could hide it in the attic?"

He didn't answer, but instead grabbed it and slid it into the closet. He didn't answer me until we were out of the room.

"My parents don't ever come in mine or Shelley's rooms, so it'll be safe with me." Then he added, "Besides, if you're ever in trouble, you'll just call us, right?"

"Of course."

We headed downstairs and past Shelley to Cartman's house. Since it is just next door, we felt no need to drive, despite Stan wanting to anyway. He's kind of been a car fanatic ever since he got his. I can't blame him, but it'd be nice if he didn't try to drive it every .2 seconds. 

The lights were still out in Cartman's house. There seemed to be a lack of any life in there, but since Liane's car was out front, we knew at least she was inside. We knocked lightly on the door, and surprisingly, she answered pretty calmly.

"Hi boys. What can I do for you?"

"Hi Ms. Cartman. We were hoping to get Cartman's therapists number in case we were to ever need it." Stan asked. 

"Oh, I guess that's okay. Although I do warn you, she might not be willing to answer all your questions because there's some things only I am allowed to know about his condition."

"That's fine."

Liane reached into a nearby drawer in the kitchen and grabbed two small cards with phone numbers on them. She didn't even look around for them. As if she was waiting for us.

"Thanks Ms. Cartman." Stan said happily. He turned around to head back home, but something was keeping me back. I don't know if it's the atmosphere of the house, Liane's sudden calmness or the fact that she didn't need to search for two conveniently placed cards didn't sit right with me, and I was determined to find out what it was.

Then Liane shut and locked the door before I could even speak to her. Stan looked back to see why I hadn't been following him, but I made sure to make it seem like I was just zoned out and didn't notice him leaving.

Walking down the street, I catch the curtains to Cartman's bedroom move the slightest bit in the corner of my eye. It eases me a little knowing that he's safe in his room, and sets to rest the reason as to why Liane was so calm. Still, I still wonder why Liane had the cards ready for us. 

Like, down to the number. 

That's way too convenient.

Whatever, I'm probably overthinking it way too much. But still, the thought lingers.

* * *

I could hear the phone still ringing against Stan's ear. He tried calling twice already, but nobody answered. I suggested I try, but he insisted he do it first, for some reason. I think he might be sick of me always being in Cartman's business without the inclusion of him, so the least I can do is give him this one thing. 

After one more failed attempt, I decided to give it a whirl. I set the phone to speaker and let it ring, not very confident she'll pick up considering how many times Stan was left unanswered. Surprisingly, it only rang twice. She picked up and immediately, a bright and cherry voice bubbled through the speaker.

"Hello! Kyle Broflovski, is it? This is Dr. Beam. One of my patients has been talking about you for a while, I've been trying to get in contact with you."

"Yeah, this is Kyle. How'd you know?"

"I tracked who had been calling me, and found that they were coming from South park. Naturally, I just assumed that no one from there would be this dedicated to calling me except you. Was I not correct?"

"Aha, it's not just me here. One of Cartman's other friends, Stan, is here also."

"Stanley Marsh. Or, as Cartman calls you, "hippie". 

Stan rolled his eyes. It's not like she can see us.

"That sounds like Cartman."

"Well, I was hoping to get to talk to you someday, Kyle. From what I hear, you and Cartman are pretty close. And you used to be at odds, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks to you, he's a little more bearable now."

"Don't give me all the credit! You contributed more to his change of attitude than I did."

"..Really? Me?"

"Yes you. Unfortunately, I can't reveal much, since what is said in these walls is top secret, but Cartman admires you. He's changing because you inspired him to, so don't you go pinning this all on me. All I did was guide him to the path he wanted to take."

I feel a warmth rise in my chest being told that I was the reason Cartman's becoming a better person, but Stan interrupts to bring forth the reason we called in the first place.

"Um, Dr. Beam. The reason we called today is because we have some questions and concerns regarding Cartman."

"Oh, I suppose I can help. Having a Schizophrenic friend can be stressful for young minds, so the fact that you two are willing to reach out and educate yourselves on his illness speaks volumes on how much you care for your friend. How can I help?"

Stan and I looked to each other. We hadn't really planned this far ahead, so the best thing might be to just wing it. I cleared my throat and asked, "When is you next appointment with Cartman?"

"This Thursday."

So, he'll be talking to her soon. Maybe then all this crazy shit will come to a pause.

"Do you know how an episode usually starts for him?"

She was silent, then we heard some distant typing. "Um, why do you ask?"

"Well, he's been acting strange, and we wanna make sure he's not going into an episode. Or, if he is, how we can help."

"What do you mean by 'strange'? Can you be specific?"

"Well, yesterday I caught him talking to himself in an empty classroom, then chucking a desk at a wall. He also left randomly the other day while hanging out with us and one of our other friends. His mom has been acting weird too."

"His mom?"

"Yeah. She's been jumpy and doesn't really directly answer my questions. She also implied that Cartman had...hurt her once."

"Yes, he does have a history of violence."

"And finally, earlier today I found myself in some trouble that involved him."

"How so?"

"There was this man. He looked to be some sort of business man. He held a gun to my head and threatened to shoot me. Cartman... uh."

I know I said I wouldn't admit this infront of Stan, but this is important information that his therapist deserves to know.

"He dropped to his knees and started to beg and cry for him to let me go. I managed to get a hit and let us escape, and we ran out to the woods. He hugged me, gave me a gun and told me that he couldn't tell me what that was about."

There was nothing on the other line. No typing, no noise, silence. For a second, I thought I had said something wrong, then she spoke again.

"Boys, I need you to do something for me, okay?"

"Yes?" Stan and I asked in unison.

"Keep a close eye on Cartman until I can talk with him. Make sure he's taking his medication too. That might be a leading cause to this manic behaviour. Talk to him as much as possible. And lastly, don't provoke any violence from him. He has a tendency to resort to physical violence and closing himself off when he's presented with something new, unfamiliar or personal. Try not to set him off. It might cause a meltdown and someone could get hurt. If you're gonna do something, make sure to warn him."

Stan and I both nodded, then after realizing she couldn't see us, we both blankly responded, "Okay."

"Good. I'll get to the bottom of this during our next visit. It doesn't seem too extreme right now, but it could go downhill very quickly. If he shows any signs of wanting to or planning to hurt himself or others, call me immediately. Thank you both for this talk. Oh, and Kyle?"

"Yes?"

"Make sure to let him know you're proud of him. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear it, even if he doesn't show it."

"Will do. Thank you Dr. Beam."

We hung up and took a breather. That was a lot to take in.

So, any intentions of harming himself or others is where the line is drawn. Well, with Cartman, it's gonna be harm to tell if he's trying to be funny or if he's really planning on it. He's made suicidal jokes before, but who's to say those weren't jokes?

"Jesus Christ dude. This is bigger than I thought." Stan sighed, lieing back in his bed. I couldn't agree more.

"I should get home. My mom's probably wondering where the hell I am."

Stan nods and I take my leave without another word. We're both just processing what just happened.

_"Make sure to let him know you're proud of him."_

I should get on that soon. Right now though, I'm gonna go home, eat dinner, study up and sleep.

* * *

Last night's rest was a shitty one. It's not like I didn't sleep, it's just the sleep I got wasn't good. It was filled with nightmares and felt excruciatingly long. When I woke up, I felt like I hadn't slept at all and just relived the previous day a second time. I looked terrible, so I took a shower to try and wake up, but that made me look even worse. My mom even checked my temperature this morning to make sure I wasn't getting sick. Despite this, she still sent me to school.

I breezed by my first few classes of the day fairly quickly. It's all the same jumble of work to me, and I can get it done without a second thought. The day flowed like molasses until the end of my AP history class, where I met up with Cartman in time for lunch.

"Hey Jew. You look like shit."

"Thanks. That's probably because I feel like shit."

"Why? What's wrong?"

My chest grew a little tight at the thought of Cartman still showing so much care about me. 

" _Cartman admires you"_

The words still make my insides swirl with delight. He admires me. He sees me as something important. 

Something worth caring about.

"I think I just slept wrong or something. Also, I'm kind of still shaken from yesterday."

"Right. Sorry about that. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

What does he mean by that? Is he implying that he hurt someone? I should call Dr. Beam. No, he didn't imply anything. He simply said that it wouldn't happen again. That could mean anything. 

At some point during our walk to the cafeteria, Stan joined in and all three of us just silently walked. Then, Stan stopped and checked his phone. For some reason, I started to get really nervous. 

Is that even the right word? No, it's not. 'Nervous' is an understatement. I felt terrified. For no reason. 

My chest was tight with anxiety, and I found it hard to breathe. Like the air was just seeping out of me, and no matter how hard I tried to get it back, it wouldn't come.

"Wendy just tex- You okay Kyle?" Stan looked back at me worriedly. I couldn't respond. I actually couldn't.

"I- I'm..I can't..the fuck?"

Cartman and Stan stared at me cluelessly while I panicked. Why am I panicking? 

My eyesight is starting to blur now. I feel like I'm gonna pass out.

"Woah, hey Kyle! You're turning white."


	5. Diagnosis Part:2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle has a big problem

An overwhelming and intense fear washed over me like a storm at sea, and I am a sailor. My heart began to hammer in my chest, to the point where I was sure it was to explode. Everything was blurry and moving. 

I can't stand. It's all too overwhelming. 

I'm not getting any air. No matter how hard I suck in, I choke on the little breath I receive and am forced to release it so I can try again. 

My head is pounding. So loud. It hurts.

Why are the lights so bright?

Everything is spinning.

Is that Stan coming up to me?

"Hey Jew!" Cartman yelled, gaining mine and Stan's attention. I can't tell if it's just me or if Cartman is so much louder than usual.

Stan looked back at Cartman questioningly, as if he'd just spouted the dumbest bullshit. I focused on him, trying to find out how to make my mouth work as my lungs struggled to function. His face is stoic and calm. Why is he so calm?

I feel like I'm dying.

Am I having a heart attack?

Oh shit, what if I'm dying?

"Name five blue things." He said simply. Stan stepped back and tried to keep his head as Cartman walked up to me and held my shoulders. I just realized, now that I'm being held up against my will, how weak my body feels. My legs are like jelly and I'm shaking like a branch in the wind. I'm trying to look around and do what he said, but I'm having trouble getting out something that's the color blue.

"S-Stan's hat." I said shakily, eyes darting all around the room. Cartman nodded. "Good, now four more."

"Um, t-t-the floor."

"What on the floor?"

"T-tiles."

"Okay. Three more."

"Uhh. I can't-"

"Yes you can. Three more."

My breathing is coming more steadily, but not easily. The air still gets stuck and I have to force it down like bad dinner. It rushes out of me so fast that I almost flinch.

"M-my sh-sh-shoes."

"Good. Two more."

I groaned, already pissed at this game. It's more difficult than it has to be, because my brain is spazzing out and I can barely get a word out. Not to mention my fucking heart beating a million miles per second. I swear I'm gonna puke it out if I don't calm the fuck down.

"S-Stan's hat."

"You already said that. C'mon Kyle, focus."

"I c-can't. Not like...t-this. I can't."

"Fine, just one more thing then."

I looked around. Literally nothing around here is blue. Except...

"Your l-left eye?"

"Not blue. Try again."

"What? Uh huh."

"No Kyle. My eye is light gray. Not blue.

"I'm looking at it right now, and it is blue."

"Actually, according to the cards at home depot, its Misty Morning Dew Grey."

I laughed, "You're an idiot."

"Yeah, and you're breathing normally."

Hey, he's right.

"What the fuck? How did-"

"I distracted you. It's called a 'panic attack' Kyle. You didn't tell me you get them."

"I don't. I mean, I've panicked before, but never that extreme. I thought I was dying."

Stan finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in that whole time and stepped up to me.

"You should probably tell your parents about this dude."

"It's fine Stan. Perhaps I'm just a little stressed today. I did wake up feeling shitty."

Stan glared a little, but he knows that I'm not one to change my mind on things like this. I don't want to tell either of my parents. Who knows how they'll react. I'm not ready for them to be a part of my life any more than they're required to until I'm an adult.

* * *

When I got home, my mom ran up to me the second I was through the door. Ike was on the couch, along with my dad on the other side.

"Oh bubbleh, Stan told me what happened at school today. Are you okay?" She was examining my face like it was gonna be damaged. 

"Mom, I'm fine. I just had a panic attack."

"I'm taking you to the doctor to settle this."

"What? No mom, I'm fine. Really. It won't happen again."

"Yes, it won't happen again. Because I'm taking you to get treated before it gets worse."

"But, I said-"

"No buts Kyle. Quickly put your stuff away and get in the car."

Since it looked like I have no way of winning this argument, so I slowly climbed up the stairs to drop my backpack on my bedroom floor and get into the car. I tried to take my sweet time upstairs, but no matter how long I took, there's no avoiding this. 

On the way there, I tried to answer as little questions as possible. I didn't really feel like talking anyhow. I feel sort of nervous. Like, I'm hoping that there's nothing wrong with me, and I just panicked as a reaction to stress or something, but what if I'm wrong. What if there's something seriously wrong with me? 

When mom pulled into the hospital driveway, my stomach was at my feet. Hospitals have never been my favorite, considering how much time I've spent in them at an early age. Despite this, I forced myself through the doors and towards the waiting room as my mom talked to the lady behind the desk. I watched the cars pass outside, and swore I saw Cartman in one of them. It's probably nothing.

"Kyle Broflovski?" a nurse called out from a nearby door. My mom and I stood and followed her through the maze that was the hospital all the way to our room. Once in the small room, I was given a blue gown to change into in the nearby bathroom. It barely went to my knees and showed my butt. I guess I'll have to sit as much as possible. 

The whole experience is mostly a blur now, thinking back on it. The doctor came in and started asking questions, which my mom took the liberty of answering for me. When I didn't respond to anything he asked, the doctor concluded I needed to take a blood test. After that, he left me and my mom alone in the little room. All I could think was what I was going to do if something was wrong with me. Would I tell Cartman? He deserves to know, but what if it's too much? His therapist said he freaks out when he's given something new, unfamiliar or personal. Would this set him off? Would he go back to his old ways because of this?

The doctor came back and said I needed to have an MRI done. My mom was scared shitless, but I was just going with the flow at this point and hoping for the best. It was when I was lied down on the bed, waiting to be shoved into this machine, I started to get panicky. I think the doctor noticed, because he had the nurse inject something in me that numbed my mind. I was still scared, but my body was too tired to care. It was all foggy. They also gave me some music to listen to while in there, so that was nice, but they didn't have any good songs. I just had old nursery rhymes blasting in my ears as I stared into the red dot I was told to look at. Really added to the whole 'creepy' effect. 

Afterwards, the doctor left us in the room, once again, to get results. I don't know if I'm just agitated or impatient or whatever, but there's an unreasonable amount of waiting time at this hospital. And tests.

Finally, the doctor came back and sat down on his little spinny chair. He held out a clipboard and talked about my results. This felt like one of those movie scenes where the main character gets told some really bad news and the rest of his live changes. 

Now I know how Cartman felt every time he'd get a diagnosis back. 

"Generalized Anxiety Disorder. It doesn't seem to bad right now, but if left untreated, could worsen. I suggest you get put on some Lexapro SSRI's."

No way.

"How could this have happened doctor?"

"Not sure? Past trauma could've caused it. Maybe a recent blow to the head. Lack of sleep."

I couldn't get out any words. 

Anxiety.

Really?

How?

Is this gonna be my life now?

* * *

The ride back was a huge jumble of words. Some were questions, some were accusations, some were for comfort. 

All of them passed through my ears like ghosts. 

My mom sent me up to my room once we were back in the comfort of our own home. In the hospital room, I looked forward to lying in my own bed, but now it all feels foreign. My blankets and pillows feel like they're made from the quills of a porcupine, and everything in my room is strangely distant. Like I'm not who I was yesterday.

I guess, in a way, I'm not.

What the fuck am I saying? Of course I'm still the same person.

I'm still me. Sure I have a mental illness with no cure and that will change my life forever, but I'm still the same. 

Besides, if I truly do have anxiety, then I've been living with the symptoms for a while now then. So, what am I even worried about?

I'm still the same. I just have a name for what I am now. Anxious.

I'm not sure how to feel about this. Maybe I should talk to someone.

Cartman.

.

.

. 

No. Not Cartman. I could send him into an manic episode. 

The last thing I need is another thing to worry about. And the last thing he needs is another reason to close himself off from me. 

I should call Stan. Yeah, I'll call Stan.

It's his fault I'm in this mess in the first place.

I fished out my phone from my backpack. The cold case is unnerving in my hand, but I try not to think about that. If I just stop overthinking, I'll stop overthinking. Simple.

Stan's contact is the very first on my list, due to the frequent texting and calling we do on the daily, but I don't tap on it immediately. Instead, I decided to scroll though my contact list. There's no particular reason I do this. I guess I'm trying to put off telling Stan. 

Looking at all these numbers I have saved, I realise how many people this news might affect. There's no doubt that the school will be informed at some point, which will inevitably lead to everyone knowing eventually. If someone doesn't hear the teachers discussing it, then my having a panic attack in the middle of class just might do it.

Fuck, what am I gonna do?

* * *

"Are you..okay?" Stan asked through the phone. I finally mustered up the courage to just call him. I figured it'd be better if we heard each other's voices instead of just talking about this over messaging.

"I'm not sure. I feel calm at the moment, but that's because of the medication they gave me at the doctors. My parents are still deciding whether or not to put me on them permanently."

"Why do they even need to decide? If you need medication, then they should know to give it to you."

"They never thought they'd have to think about this. They agreed that their kids weren't to be put of medication unless they needed to be badly. I guess it's partly because of the expenses and their reputations, but whatever. I'm hoping that they decide not to."

"Why not? Then at least you'll have something to bond with Cartman over." I think he meant this as a crack at a joke, but I don't find it funny. I cringed. Just thinking about Cartman right now is making me sick.

"I'm not gonna tell him." I said quickly. Stan didn't respond for a second. 

"Kyle...you know you have to."

"No I don't. I don't _have_ to tell anyone."

"But he's your friend. He tells you all his new diagnoses and prescriptions."

"Yeah, but this is different. If I tell him, all he'll do is stress. Besides, his therapist specifically told us not to introduce new or unfamiliar things to him or he'll have a meltdown. What if this is the thing that sends him over?"

"I get that dude, but consider what would happen if you don't tell him. He's bound to find out eventually and when he does, he's gonna be mad you didn't tell him. I think that's way more likely to send him into a freakout than telling him you have anxiety."

"Oh god, don't say it like that! I'm just getting used to the idea."

Stan grew quiet on the other line, and it started to get awkward. So, I spoke,

"I'll tell him eventually. Just not...right away."

"Kyle, knowing you, you're probably gonna put it off until it confronts you. It's better to just rip off the band-aid right now."

"I don't want him to know I'm on medication. I'm supposed to be the stable one."

"If this is pressuring you so much, I can tell him for you."

"No! Please Stan, let me just figure out how to go about this."

Stan sighed, "Alright dude. I trust you'll do it eventually, but don't be afraid to ask for help. Me and Kenny are here for you and Cartman with whatever. That's what friends are for."

"Yeah. I got to go. See you tomorrow dude."

"Seeya."

I was the first to hang up, leaving the line dead. I dropped the phone and sunk under my covers. 

I know I probably should tell Cartman about this. He deserves to know. He'd do the same for me, so why is it so hard for me to return to favor? It's not like this changes anything about me. I'm still me to him. 

He knows better than anyone that having an illness doesn't change who you were beforehand.

And it might just be me here, but this seems a bit..rushed.

Call it what you will, but it feels like this just came out of nowhere. How come it took Cartman a whole year to finally get a proper diagnosis, but it only took me one doctor visit? Not even a mental health professional either. Just your standard, run of the mill doctor. 

Seems a little weird to me. Maybe I should be a little cautious of what I allow them to put in me. With a case like this, I wouldn't be surprised if I don't even have anxiety and that was a lie.

But what reason would some random doctor have to lie to me and my family? What would he gain from this?

I wonder if Cartman has anything to do with this?

What the fuck am I thinking? Of course he doesn't! He doesn't even know I went to the doctors today.

How could he have something to do with this?

I really need to change my way of thinking. He's different. I know he is. I've seen his changes with my own eyes.

I just need sleep probably. Yeah, a nap sounds nice right now.

I can tell Cartman about this tomorrow. If I have the courage to, that is.


	6. Unwell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cartman's acting weird

The second I got to school, I noticed his odd behaviour. Cartman seemed out of it all day. I'd tried talking to him during breakfast, but he was so distant and, overall, really gone. Like wasn't even hearing what I was saying. His eyes were focused but not on anything. He was listening to something that wasn't there. 

Lost in his own world.

It got so much worse around second period. We have history together, so I was able to sneak peeks at him the entire time, and he was sort of, on guard. Like he was about to be attacked any second. By what, I couldn't be sure, but whatever was distracting him seemed to be terrible. It got to the point where the teacher finally noticed and subtly called in the school nurse to take him to her office. Nobody looked to be bothered by his sudden exit, except me. They might've just been hiding their curiosity with focused stares on their paper, so Cartman doesn't snap at them, but I stared without shame. After all, Cartman hasn't yelled at me in quite some time. 

I worried about him the rest of the period. Of course, it might've affected my work ethic slightly, but one low grade isn't gonna hurt me too badly. 

And besides, it's nothing I can't make up in a day's time.

It just was very stressful seeing his empty seat the whole class. I knew that I could check on him during lunch, but I can't help my dumb feelings. Now that Cartman's a decent human being, it's so much easier to associate him with these feelings of worry without thinking about my sanity. I mean, he has his moments where he slips up and says something that he only would've said a few years ago, but I know that he wouldn't be the same person if he didn't mess up once in a while. Of course, I don't want him to be completely the same, but it's nice that he cleaned up his edges a bit.

For me.

His therapist said that I was his sole motivation for improving and bettering himself. I never knew Cartman looked up to me. He idolized me. 

Why? Last I remember, he hates me.

Okay, he doesn't hate me. Not like he used to anyway. I mean, he trusts me more than our other friends, he always come to me first after a new diagnosis, I'm the first of our friend he's opened up to. I guess it is believable.

I just thought he was trying to be my friend. Could it be he was trying to impress me the whole time? All those hospitals he stayed at, all those therapists he dropped, all the new medication and getting a tutor and even getting a job that he kept for a month. He did that all to impress me.

And he didn't fail either. He did impress me. By a longshot. He proved to, not only me, but to himself that he's capable of changing and improving. It was an engraved anti moral for him from an early age that people don't and can't change. Deep down, he'd always be the kid he was. 

I believed that too honestly. I never thought Cartman would be able to redeem himself. He can't fix the lives he's ruined, or mend the bonds he's broken. He's done things that can't be reversed. I believed just as much as he did that he's incapable of changing, and he'll always be that fat little kid. 

But he proved me wrong. He proved himself wrong. 

He did get better. He didn't fix what he broke, but he did his best to tend to the wound in hopes that one day, it'll heal. He visited Scott Tenorman as an adult, who ended up in prison, and apologized to him. No acting either. He went over there and told Scott he was sorry and he knows he can't fix it and he's trying to be better. Of course, Scott reminded him that he's an orphan and nothing Cartman does can change that, but he accepted Cartman's apology and told him that he must feel bad enough as it is, so forgiving him is the least he could do. Then he asked if Cartman could bail him out, and Cartman said he'll work on it. That was the most wholesome exchange I've ever seen from Cartman and another living being. It reminded me that Cartman is human. He's capable of everything I am. 

He also apologised to Butters about all the shit he put him through when we were kids. Of course, Butters forgave him instantly, and their dynamic didn't change all too much, but Butters knows now that Cartman doesn't hate him. Sure, he's annoying and wimpy, but he's not that bad. Besides, he stands up for himself every now and then.

Cartman even apologized to his mom for being a little pest as a kid. I loved this one the most. Liane not only forgave him, but told him how proud she was and how she wishes she had the strength to improve like Cartman is. 

Of course, this didn't all happen in one day. He constantly talked about talking to his mom and I encouraged him. The result didn't fail to surpass my expectations.

Weirdly though, Cartman never told me he was sorry. I think I suffered the most from his schemes and antics, yet nothing. In fact, he doesn't seem like he regrets treating me like he did back then. Like he wouldn't have changed a thing. 

I don't know how to feel about that. Should I ask him about it?

It's best to do damage control. I'd hate for this all to come out while in an emotional conflict because that'd only serve to add salt to the injury and cause unnecessary

drama.

* * *

Before lunch started, I made a beeline for the nurses office. I hoped Cartman would still be there, and that he didn't go home. 

When I entered, only one bed was occupied by a big figure under a blue blanket. It had to be Cartman. He was sitting up and covering himself with the, previously mentioned, blanket. You could tell something was wrong because the outline implied that he was covering his ears with his hands. He was breathing pretty heavily and shaking badly. You could easily tell something was severely wrong. I stepped closer, trying to figure out how to avoid startling him, and settled on taking a quiet seat at the end of the bed. He slowly peeked out from the blanket and met my eyes. His pupils were blown and his eyes were glossy. He looked scared, and upset and overall, in a bad spot. Since I know he's very sensitive about letting his friends see him in vulnerable states, I silently pulled out my phone and earbuds. I read somewhere that listening to music helps with auditory hallucinations, and I wanna see if this is true. So, I untangled the earbuds and grabbed both sides of his face, carefully moving his hands and placing the earbuds inside. Then I went to Spotify and pressed shuffle. The song that came up was 'Meteor Shower' by Cavetown. I like to listen to his music at night when I can't sleep. It looked to help him by a lot, because his shoulders relaxed and he sat back, taking deep breaths. 

It's nice how we can have exchanges like this, where neither of us has to say a word because we get each other. I know he probably doesn't want to talk about what's going on, and he knows I understand this. We're in harmony with each other. Two swings on a swing set going the same way. He didn't even have to say anything and I knew something was wrong. One could say that it's because of my observation skills, or that fact that it was pretty obvious, but either way, I just knew. 

I felt uncomfortable balancing on my heel as he lied back and listened, so I took a seat next to him and listened to the song as best I could from the earbuds. It wasn't very loud, but I could hear it clearly because of the quietness of the room. He didn't look as distant as before. It looks like he's back to normal almost. His breathing will stutter now and then, but he's slowly regaining himself. 

Once the song had stopped, he pulled the earbuds out and hands them back to me, still not saying much of anything. I don't mind the silence though, and I silently slip the wires into my jacket pocket, but I don't move from my spot. Lunch is in session, and it's required that every student gets a meal, to avoid kids becoming anorexic I guess, so I offer,

"Do you wanna head to lunch?"

He probably wasn't expecting me to avoid talking about this, but honestly, there's probably not much I can do to help the situation. All I know is what I found on google, which isn't the most reliable source, and I can't say I've known Cartman long enough to know what to do, because I spent most of those years assuming this was his normal behaviour and not once considering it went deeper than that. Much less did I stop to try and calmly talk him out of whatever he was doing. I wouldn't dare talk to Cartman like that. He was a menace, a delinquent. A bad kid that deserved the worst of punishments. Never did any of his schemes stem off some sort of mental illness that caused psychotic symptoms like that. He was just bad for the sake of being bad.

I thought that's what it was. Then he went to the camp and came back totally different. He was more anxious. He always took a pause to think before he spoke, especially to me. He pissed me off less, and his random bursts of mania became less and less frequent. I can only remember one time where it was as bad as it was when we were small.

This was a few months after he'd dropped a therapist that wasn't working for him. The diagnosis she gave him, 'Substance-induced psychotic disorder' which was not at all correct. Cartman rarely ever drinked, and when he did, it was at parties where everyone else was too drunk to care. I was awake proofreading a big essay I had due the next day, and caught a flashlight shining outside. I looked to find the source and saw Cartman walking through the snow, wearing summertime clothes and carrying a suitcase. For a brief second, I considered ignoring this and going back to my work. After all, this is just normal Cartman behaviour.

Except it wasn't.

He hadn't done anything like this in about a year, at the time, and I could see from my bedroom window his mom calling out to him from the doorstep. She was still in her nightgown and was about ready to step outside when I found myself throwing on some sneakers and a jacket, and slipping out the door. I moved as quick as I could in the heavy sheet of snow to talk to Liane and find out what's going on.

"What is he doing?" I asked her. She was so worried. I saw her reach for her phone for a quick second, then for her jacket. Her and I both know if she were to call any authorities, that'd only drive Cartman further away. Liane and I chased after Cartman and tried our best to stop him in whatever he was doing.

"What are you doing Cartman?" I asked him, using my body as a shield so he couldn't move any further.

"I'm walking to Hawaii." 

"What? Why?"

"Because Kahl, I did some math and found it's much cheaper to walk there than to buy a plane ticket. I'm not gonna waste my money when I could walk. Besides, it'll help me lose some weight and get off the 'Binge eating' program in all the inpatients."

"That's dumb Cartman. You're gonna freeze to death out here."

"Not if I get to Hawaii first."

Liane caught up with us, and tenderly grabbed Cartman's hand.

"Eric, come back inside. I'll make a call and you'll be fine tomorrow. Come on."

Weirdly enough, he listened. He looked determined to walk to Hawaii, but after his mom showed concern for him and made that promise, he let her lead him home without another word. I didn't see him until the next week and he was fine.

I wish I was more involved when it came to things like that. Then maybe I'd know what to do in situations like this. Sure, I was successful today, but what if he's totally delusional and I can't deal with it. What if he tries something like that again and I can't do whatever it was his mom did that day? I should call his therapist again and ask some more questions.

* * *

Since Cartman would never pass up lunch, we walked together to get some food and that initiated some interesting conversation.

"So, are you good now?" I asked him. I wanted to know if his episode had passed or if he was just pretending to be okay for my sake.

"Uh, yeah. I'm okay."

"Is everything gone?"

"Not fully, but I can take it." 

I wish I knew how to help, but I don't. I don't really know what do to to make the situation better. I know how to not make it worse, but that's not enough. He needs help, and I don't know how to give it to him. Sure he's gonna talk to his therapist this Thursday but that's not close enough. This all seems to be getting worse and worse. 

She did say to talk to him as much as possible.

"Hey Cartman."

"Yeah?"

"Are you off your meds?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at the ground almost angrily. Shoot, did I trigger something?

"Why do you think I'm off? Is it because of what happened today, because that shit just happens sometimes. There's nothing anyone can do about it, and I find it pretty rude that you're even considering that I just stopped taking my meds."

"It's not just what happened today. It's everything that's been happening since you got back. I'm not saying this to hurt you, I just wanted to know."

"It's not any of your business."

"Yes it is. You know it is, because otherwise you wouldn't inform me every time you switch or get a heavier dose. If it's not any of my business, why do you insist on making it my business?"

Shit, I got angry. I also struck a nerve with him, because he's fucking fuming. Dammit, this is the thing that his therapist told me _not_ to do.

"Fuck you Kahl."

"Wait, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get mad."

"No, I'm not talking about this anymore. Fuck off."

We continued walking but there was tension between us and I didn't like it one bit. I had to fix this. What could I say? What could I do? There's gotta be something I could....

"Cartman."

"Don't talk."

"I just want you to know that I just wanted to help. I'm proud of you and how far you've gotten, and I'd hate for you to spiral back. Sorry for assuming you're off your meds."

He released a breath, taking his hands out of his pockets.

"I'm sorry for snapping, I guess. I need to get that under control. Thanks for, being proud."

"We good?"

"Y-yeah. We're good."

The conflict resolved with a temporary solution to a permanent problem, but any solution is a good one right now. I just need him to be trusting of me and calm. At least until Thursday.


End file.
